


The Scientific Method

by imgoingtocrash



Category: Scorpion (TV 2014)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Light Angst, Rated T for Mild Language, Set in the possible future of Season 2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-14
Updated: 2016-01-14
Packaged: 2018-05-14 00:28:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5722777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imgoingtocrash/pseuds/imgoingtocrash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>""What do you think about marriage?" Toby asks, straight out of the blue. He watches Happy blink slowly, her eyebrow quirking up adorably before mulling over an answer.</p>
<p>"Like, as a concept, or...?" Happy doesn't finish the question, but her eyes dart between them quickly enough that he understands the implication."</p>
<p>Toby thinks about love and his marriage that almost was and Happy is there to support him, in her own way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Scientific Method

**Author's Note:**

> If I write a fic including mention of the scientific method, that counts as studying, right? Right. Just checking.
> 
> This came from the TVLine spoilers about the possible future state of the Quintis relationship. I’m not putting my money on engagement ring just yet because I feel it was implied more by the writer of the piece than by Nick Santora himself. However, I did have the idea for a kind of ‘state of the relationship’ conversation that I think Toby and Happy could have at some point when considering such things.

"What do you think about marriage?" Toby asks, straight out of the blue. He watches Happy blink slowly, her eyebrow quirking up adorably before mulling over an answer.

"Like, as a concept, or...?" Happy doesn't finish the question, but her eyes dart between them quickly enough that he understands the implication.

He shrugs in response, because he _wishes_ he knew where this was coming from. He thinks he must be hardwired to have serious conversations both after and during near death experiences.

Today it was Walter's turn in the proverbial hot seat of death, but it got him thinking. Feeling. He's looking at Walter and Paige and what they aren't saying and it makes him feel like words are trapped inside his chest, and out of all the things he thought he might say (I love you, something sarcastic, no words, just shoving Happy against her desk and capturing her lips until he can't remember a time without her in his space.) It wasn't anything about the thing that he almost did, once upon a time.

"My parents were married," is how she begins, talking while she works to ease the heat of their eye contact. "Then again, most of the foster parents in the state of California were too and that didn't stop them from trying to kill each other over a paycheck from the government that another wise-ass brat brought through the door. Sly and Megan were married. I mean, it was short, but the way he talks about her...can't say I've seen much purer than that, Doc. So I think as a concept it's not the worst thing to grace the earth. How's that for you?"

"Not giving me much to work with here, Hap." He takes off his hat. Fiddles with it between his hands. Tries not to analyze himself about it. Fails.

"Well, what did you want? Because if this is some proposal scheme, I gotta tell you, it's kind of awful." Happy chuckles, before considering what she just said and furrowing her brow.

"It's not." It's not that he _doesn’t_ want to marry Happy. He's thought about it sometimes, in that dream-state sort of way. Errant thoughts of a band on her finger. (No jewels because she's not the flashy type, maybe one of those lock-picking rings that doesn't look too cheap.)

How he'd even try to phrase how much he loves her. Needs her.

How he might even go the direct approach, start talking tax breaks and practicality.

He just remembers how it was the first time.

They went to a fancy place with the right status signs. He got on one knee with a big ass diamond and Amy had feigned tears for the crowd and said yes. How proud he felt saying fiancée until he found out she was cheating on him with that self-help writing bastard. It haunts his views of marriage as much as watching his own mother scream and punch walls as she became more depressed than manic in his formative years.

“O…kay.” Happy says, putting down the tool in her hands to really look at him.

"I just...I think about it, sometimes, that's all." He knows, down to his bones, that Happy is nothing like Amy. She’s not going to leave him for some douche. She’s not going to abandon him at his weakest. If he proposes, hell, if she proposes, it won’t be anything like the last time, and they’ll be nothing like his parents before him.

She moves close, finally, studying his face with a squint. "What do you know about the scientific method?"

He gives her a look. He may not be an engineer but medical science is still science. Any sucker taking Biology 101 knows that. He answers anyways. "Make an observation, create a hypothesis, make a prediction, test it."

"Okay, yeah, but what's the most important thing about the results of the test?”

He sighs. “You've lost me, Quinn."

Happy leans on the corner of his desk. “Look, even when a hypothesis is right, it's not ever considered proven because someone in the future could disprove it. So as much as Walter wants to bitch and moan about love being junk science, some people support love’s validity right before two other morons challenge it and we have to see if it works out all over again. So whatever's in your head about marriage and love is dumb, because it's not even a concrete concept, let alone a science.”

"You know, I've always wanted my girlfriend to go into a long speech about how the scientific method makes our love essentially meaningless.”

Happy frowns. "You sure know how to ruin a moment, you know that?"

"Sadly, I'm acutely aware that no one in this garage appreciates humor." He lightly laces his fingers with hers despite the comment, taking the comfort if she’s offering it.

"Uh-huh. Keep it up and see where you sleep tonight. Loud morons have no place in my bedroom."

"I remember one particular case where a certain loud moron was acceptable if he was moaning your na—“ She shuts him up with a quick glare.

"Just so you know," Happy says, turning back to her project. “If all that crap was a proposal, I probably wouldn't have been that mad about it."

She unlinks their fingers and walks away before he can compose an appropriate reply.


End file.
